'High School Reunion' show causes us to ask: Why do grads attend or shun reunions?

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF TV LANDWhat would a high school reunion be without dancing? Here classmates from J.J. Pearce High School, Richardson, Texas, celebrate the last night of their reunion in Hawaii.

Like bees to honey, a nerd, a jock, a greaser and a beauty queen flocked to the 20th reunion of the Richardson, Texas, high school class of '87. But don't credit nostalgia. The celebration was a free two-week stay on a sun-drenched estate in Hawaii, plus the chance to behave badly in front of untold numbers of television viewers -- just like celebrities!

Anyway, that's what the TV Land cable channel promises on its "High School Reunion" reality show, premiering at 10 p.m. March 5. America has wrapped its lovin' arms around exhibitionism, and these alums just couldn't resist a bit of fame, fleeting though it may be.

It gives one pause, doesn't it? And that's time enough to wonder about garden-variety high school reunions. They're devoid of glamour, as a rule, and they frequently feature banquet halls, rigatoni with meat sauce, disc jockeys spinning oldies and alums clustered near the bar. So, why do some people go, and why do the renegades stay away?

No one knows better than the gung-ho alums who undertake the supremely thankless job of staging such events. They invest heavily in the reunion's success, turning themselves inside out to locate missing classmates, mainly the half who changed their names. Then they try to promote the soirees like they're senior prom redux, except with (more) booze.

Laura O'Neill fits the profile. She has managed to locate 445 members of her Bedford High School class of '78, with help from the Internet and her husband Dennis, and she's not done looking. "I want to make my classmates feel good about coming," she said.

Her missionary zeal was ignited after a classmate died around the time of their 25th reunion. It hurt her, and she knows she was not alone. "We don't want to miss out on seeing each other again," she said resolutely.

But she's fairly certain she has a bead on why 20 or so have resisted her entreaties to celebrate with the class. It's all sad.

"Some don't like what they turned out to be," she said. "And some don't feel they were part of the class, like the boys in shop."

And, of course, some live too far away and can't afford the trip.

While Cookie Tokach was planning West Technical High School's class of '67 reunion, she got an earful of excuses. Of 900, only about 150 are expected, she said.

"We get a lot who say, 'High School wasn't good for me, and I don't want to go back,'¤" she said. "Some felt there were cliques in high school, and they're afraid the reunion will be cliquey, too."

Then there's the fat factor. No-shows may be embarrassed by their appearances. Sue Ryan Proctor, planning Olmsted Falls High School class of '72 reunion, has heard that excuse.

"I think people are self conscious about how they look, but we're all getting older," she said. "They're afraid of what people will think about them."

But Tokach, who wore short skirts, leather jackets and teased hair in high school, thinks that's a sorry excuse.

"Last time a woman came with a small respirator and a brace on her leg, but she still got up and fast-danced," she said.

She, too, is driven by the realization that time marches on. "We're all getting older, and we know we're losing people," she said.

They've already lost their school. West Tech was converted to condominiums around 1995. "The school is gone, but we want to keep the spirit going," Tokach said. "I just want as many of us together as we can."

Her husband, Nick, Holy Name '68, doesn't share her enthusiasm for reunions. They went to his 10th reunion and called it quits. Three reasons: He didn't have much fun in high school, he still sees the people he cared about, and the first reunion was "extremely stuffy." he said. A lot like high school, where one school dance featured the high school band playing waltzes and the other, a winter ball, didn't include rock 'n' roll music, he said.

Cookie Tokach's head is still spinning over his reunion. "I thought 'What in the world' when they played ballroom music," she said. "I didn't care if we went back."

There was no dancing whatsoever at Independence High School's class of '75 reunion, but that didn't stop it from being a blast, planner Ysolde Grody said. About 80 of the class of 142 partied in a classmate's back yard. She had to persuade some to attend by promising to be there herself.

In the end, it didn't matter how they looked, what they'd done or who they ran with in high school, she said.

"Everyone was so laid back," she said. "We are who we are. We weren't there to show off."

Unlike the Richardson, Texas, high school alums. They'll be showing off plenty.

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